


The Ghoul Lullaby

by Caroandlyn



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Age Difference, Bad Parenting, Black and White Mentality, Cannibalism, Daycare, Death, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Ghouls, Loss of Innocence, Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Parenthood, Pretending to be Human, Secret Identity, arima is a socially-incompetent asshole, daddy!Arima, kaneki is an adorable shit, mommy!Akira, rize likes them younger (and by that i mean like literally six years old), sex with pretty ladies equal more paperwork, sociopathic tendencies, what the ccg doesn't know doesn't hurt them, when could arima procreate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caroandlyn/pseuds/Caroandlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kaneki Ken's parents are Arima Kishou and Mado Akira, the CCG wants to know since when Arima could procreate, and mayhem ensues. daddy!Arima and mommy!Akira, drabble format</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 — beginning

 

"I'm pregnant," is the first thing Mado Akira, age nineteen-and-a-half, says to Arima Kishou, her twenty-seven year old contemporary, one early April morning. "And you're the father."

Had anybody listened in to the conversation—which they did not, as Akira had specifically chosen a time range that guaranteed their utmost privacy—they would have been shocked speechless: first, by the declaration itself, as the very thought of  _Arima Kishou_  procreating was simply too much to handle for some; and also because of the stiff formality that the two use to refer to each other, despite the allusions to their intimate relationship. There is no body contact with them, no glances hurriedly sneaked at each other when nobody is looking—it is all strictly professional, as blank and sterile as the empty halls of their workplace.

"I see," Arima says, and pushes his spectacles up the bridge of his nose in an imitation of deep thought. "And what would you like me to do about it? I can pay for the abortion, if that is what you are asking me to do—"

"No," says Akira, crossing her arms. "I have decided on keeping it— _him_. I just thought fit for you to know, as half of this child will be made up of you." She pats her stomach—still flat, although the barest hint of a bulge is visible—in emphasis, and then, as if suddenly aware of her unprofessional actions, jerks her arm away so that it rests demurely at the curve of her hip. "I will be requesting Maternity Leave from the CCG soon. Please prepare the paperwork."

Arima stares at her, pale grey eyes glinting in the dim cubicle lighting. "Do you know what choosing this path will do?" he asks calmly, before turning away on his chair to bend over a stack of files near his feet. "You could die any second now in this profession, and your child will be left parentless, swearing revenge pointlessly against Ghouls before they die themselves. A fitting end to the tragedy, do you not think so?"

Akira stares back, raising an eyebrow. "No son of mine will every throw away their future for something so idiotic," she says, and her voice is firm. "Father wholeheartedly agrees with me on the decision not to abort. He will raise the child if I myself cannot. And others have agreed to become surrogate parents as well, if all the previous in line have been disposed of."

He laughs hollowly in reply. "Very well," he says, and finally finds the folder he is searching for, all but shoving it her hand. "These are the forms for maternity leave and transfers. Fill them out by next Sunday."

Akira takes the folder wordlessly, giving it a light skim before turning away wordlessly. The edge of her heels hit against the tile flooring loudly when she walks— _clack, clack, clack_ —and Arima is so distracted by the sound that he almost forgets to say the thought fluttering on the edge of his mind.

"Wait," he says, and Akira pauses in her step, absentmindedly tucking a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear when she turns to look at him. The dim lighting from the cheap electric lights that hang overhead illuminate the back of her head, casting dark shadows on her face. Her expression is of professional disinterest, discernible. "You have shown me your resolve as a mother. It would look bad on me if I were to slack off on my duty as a father."

He leans forward on his desk, sighing, and cannot shake off the distinctive feeling that he will regret this later. "I will take part of the responsibility for the child. Have you already decided on a name?"

Akira gapes at him, plump pink lips partly opened to show a hint of teeth, before her mind begins to function properly again. "He will need a proper name that will not connect him to either of us," she says firmly, "so I have thought about Kaneki, after my mother's surname, and then Ken, in the kanji for study, or strong. Or perhaps Sasaki, one of the more common last names, and then Haise, after my maternal grandfather."

"Good names, for children," Arima agrees coolly, before turning back to his work. "Thank you for informing me about this, Rank Three Ghoul Inspector Mado Akira. You are dismissed."

"Hmm," says Akira, an affirmative sound, and leaves the vicinity, the smile on her face stretching so wide that a ghoul would be envious.

(— _c_ _lack, clack, clack—_ )

 


	2. 2 — middles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are not in chronological order.

"Okaa-san, okaa-san, look." Akira glances upward from her paperwork at the insistent nudging of her son, straining her neck backwards to take a look at whatever it was Ken had found to be fascinating this time. "It's a hirata-gumo, Hirako-ojisan told me so. I found it on the wall, and then Takeomi-nii picked it up and gave it to me. Isn't it cool?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, very cool," she lies, forcing a patient smile on her face. "Ken, sweetheart, be a dear and put the spider outside where it belongs, will you? You're going to scare somebody if you keep it in here."

He pouts, before looking at her hopefully. "You don't like it?" He is the spitting image of herself in her younger days, big eyes, rosy cheeks, a small button nose, only with his father's coloring: sharp grey pupils, premature white hair with a few strands of dark blue intermixed within, an unnaturally pale complexion. It is unsettling to see her face distorted into something so childish.

"I do, I do," she reassures him, giving him a quick peck on the forehead, careful not to get too close to the arachnid. "But other people might not. Remember what I taught you before—you have think of everyone else, before you do something you might regret later on."

"Yes, okaa-san," Ken mumbles, noticeably subdued, before running out of her office, hair flying messily behind him—she makes a mental note to make time to cut his hair before it reaches shoulder length—and narrowly dodging an all too amused-looking Hirako standing at the door threshold.

"There's going to be more paperwork coming later, Akira-san, but this is all I have for now," the older man says much too cheerfully, turning his head to face her as he drops an armful of files on her desk. It hits the wooden surface with a resounding thud, a foreboding sound that will haunt her for the next few days to come. She suppresses a reflexive wince. "You spoil him too much, that boy, really."

Akira smiles back at him wearily. "I could say the same for you, doting Uncle-san," she answers with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. Her expression turns serious as she skims through the first file. "They killed the Corpse Collector?"

He nods grimly. "It seems so. First Class Mado and Special Class Shinohara confronted the ghoul when it was scavenging, and they eventually managed to subdue it. It had a kagune on it—your father must have had a field day."

"A ghoul that cannibalizes others, huh..." her expression becomes pensive. Akira bites her lower lip contemplatively, drumming perfectly filed nails nervously on the surface of her desk, before a sudden thought comes to her mind. "Didn't the Corpse Collector have children, though? Around Ken's age, if I recall correctly. What will the CCG do about them?"

Hirako's face is blank, frighteningly so. "They will be dealt with if they pose a problem later," he says, his voice almost automatic. "For now, don't worry about that, Akira-san. If you or Arima-san were to become incapacitated, I swear I will personally make sure to the best of my ability that Ken-kun will not end up like those who are not as fortunate."

Akira tilts her head, leaning it on her right elbow. "I certainly hope so, Hirako-san," she says, finally, looking blandly at the clutter that has begun to form on her desk and threatens to drown her in paper. A dull ache throbs under her right eye. "I certainly hope so." 


	3. 3 — in betweens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arima isn't the sanest man in CCG.

The closest person Arima has to a father is Tsuneyoshi Washuu, chairman of the CCG; his biological one lies long dead, now but ashes in an urn. Memories of missions and orders and meetings emerge within the edges of his mind, silhouettes of men with unmoving mouths making garbled sounds that all mix into one loud keening groan: _I'm proud of you, Arima_. And then: _We need you to infiltrate the 13th Ward..._

"I'm proud of you, Ken," Arima says flatly, ruffling his son's hair. The words run off his tongue dryly, no particular meaning behind them, but Ken looks up from his high chair anyway, his smile revealing half-emerged front teeth, too young to understand most of his words but old enough to know that his father is praising him.

"Is everything okay back there?" Akira calls from the living room. "I thought I heard something."

Ken giggles, shaking the worn-down baby rattle—an old gift from Taishi, after the man had been released out of the hospital from his subsequent panic attack at the news of Akira's pregnancy. "Mama!" He has always been a cheerful baby, inheriting none of Arima's natural stoicness or his mother's cautious personality, although it is uncertain of how long this fragile innocence will last.

"It's fine," Arima says, picking up the last of the picture books scattered on the floor. Most of them sport fresh covers, small messages of congratulations from his co-workers written on the margins, with titles like _The Three Little Children and the Big Bad Ghoul_ and _The Boy Who Cried Ghoul (and other tales)._

"Alright, if you say so," Akira states crisply, walking into the kitchen. A few strands of loose hair frame her face, now thin and lean, all previous traces of baby fat gone with time and wear. "Shinohara-san says that we can drop off Ken at his house around noon, in about fifteen minutes—we should bring some sake with us, as appreciation." She rummages through the cupboards, pulling out an assortment of bottles and arranging them on the table. "Which one?"

Arima blinks, glancing at the selection. "...the junmai," he decides on finally, tightening his belt so that his pants hang professionally against his legs. "From Takara. They have the best taste."

"It might be a bit strong for Shinohara-okusan, though, especially since she just gave birth a few weeks ago..." Akira trails off, biting on her lower lip consideringly as she ties her hair into a tight bun, struggling with the stubborn locks that curl at the sides, resting over her ears. "Maybe I should add a bottle of honjozo, or would that be considered too courteous for a casual meeting?"

"It should be fine," Arima says curtly, slipping out of his house slippers and into his dress shoes. Glancing at the mirror behind the shoe cabinet, he expertly straightens his tie into a rigid line against his white collared shirt, pulling a thin grey blazer over tall, pronounced shoulders. "Shinohara would not be so unprofessional as to act unrefined in front of guests."

"But _appearances_ ," Akira says exasperatedly, fiddling her bun into place, before sighing and turning to Ken, who flails about in the high chair, impatient to be carried. "I think I'll bring the junmai only, then." Carefully balancing both Ken and the slender green bottle, she gives Arima a quick peck on the cheek and leaves to the dining room. "We have to go to the Commissioner's Meeting at twelve fifteen, so _hurry_ —"

If Arima smiles, he himself is not aware of the fact. 


	4. 4 — ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl carrying her son is pretty in the way that makes heads turn, boys and girls alike, all shiny purple hair and large violet eyes. Akira suppresses the distrust and fear that arises with the girl's very presence. Taking her son in her arms, she gives a polite smile and resists the urge the run, it doesn't matter where, because she's dangerous and has your son's life in her fingers and snap goes a knuckle and there goes his pretty little face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing with my life?

Akira digs for her I.D. in her briefcase, frowning as a quick search yields no results. Beside her, the daycare matron clucks exasperatedly, shaking her head.

"Look, Arima-san—"

"Refer to me as Mado. Arima is my husband's surname, I'm afraid."

" _Mado_ -san," the woman says, with an irritated sigh. "I'm afraid I can't let you in without scanning your I.D., even if you're Ken-kun's mother, not with all the ghoul sightings in this area. Have you heard about the serial killings down in the border of the 9th ward? My goodness, I'm terrified just thinking about it; I heard one man was left only with his head staring at the remnants of his body."

"I am fully aware of the ghoul sightings, as I am a ghoul investigator," Akira snaps coolly, finally finding the thin edge of a card lodged between case files and her wallet. Slipping the I.D. in-between the card scanner, she turns to stare at the vexed woman beside her. "Well, Honda-san?"

The matron huffs, opening the door to the nursery reluctantly. "Make sure to sign him out on the sheet next to the doorway before you leave, so we don't get sued if your dead bodies appear on the riverside bank tomorrow."

Akira steps into the room purposefully, glancing at the small room filled with the sound of laughing children and nonsensical babbling. There is no blot of white and navy splashed in between darker brown and black, despite the small bag hanging innocently against the wall behind her: _Kaneki Ken #12._

"That's strange," the matron mutters, craning her neck to peer over the plastic countertop that wraps around the front of the room. "He's not in here. Maybe he went outside to play with the older kids again." She points to a white door on the side of the building, wiping her hands on her apron. "Check with Ishii-kun or Kamishiro-chan in the back. Ikeda-kun, they're on shift, right?"

A tall, lanky young-man with badly dyed blonde hair glances up, three small children in his arms. "Rize-chan took Ken-kun and Abe-kun out to use the restroom, if that's what you're asking. It's strange they haven't returned yet, though—it's been twenty minutes."

Something in Akira snaps at those words, galvanizing her mind into action, and with a great frenzy she strides across to the outside doors and glances at the deserted playing-field outside, ignoring the frantic calls of the matron behind her. There is no sign of life, no hide or hair of her darling son anywhere, and suddenly she feels fear, because _what if Ken had—_

"Okaa-san?"

Akira turns into large grey eyes and blue hair with white streaks and then everything is okay again with the world, her son is safe and sound and nothing else could have ever mattered.

"Oh, are you Ken-kun's mother?" The girl carrying her son is pretty in the way that makes heads turn, boys and girls alike, all shiny purple hair and large violet eyes. "He never told you how beautiful you were. I'm Kamishiro Rize, by the way. I'm a volunteer here at the daycare."

"You flatter me, Kamishiro-san," Akira says, and suppresses the distrust and fear that arises with the girl's very presence. Taking her son in her arms, she gives a polite smile and resists the urge to _run, it doesn't matter where, because she's dangerous and has your son's life in her fingers and snap goes a knuckle and there goes his pretty little face_. "It's a pleasure to meet you." _Lie_.

"And you as well," Kamishiro giggles, blood-red lips curling upwards in a mockery of a smile.

Akira is in such a rush to leave she almost forgets to sign the sheet on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra: They don't get married in the traditional sense, all paperwork and little celebration, although Arima knows that Akira secretly wishes for a grand wedding with family and well-wishers and Ken toddling around dumping flower petals on the floor. She never mentions it to him, but her eyes are almost resentful in their gaze when she looks at the wedding kimono inherited from her mother hanging in the closet, untouched.


	5. 5 — arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira and Arima are a couple. And, like most couples, they fight. (Only, the thing is, they aren't like most couples at all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki is five, but his parents decided to register his birth early (Arima has a lot of enemies, after all, and who would trace sweet, chubby-cheeked Haise Sasaki to the son of the cold-blooded, ghoul-killing CCG investigator?) In Japan, it is mandatory to register your child to elementary school, or first grade in the US, in the April after or during a child's sixth birthday.

"He doesn't turn six until December."

"His birth certificate was registered in April."

Akira crosses her arms, evenly matching the steely gaze from the pair of pale grey eyes across from her. "You're sending him to public school too early. He won't be able to keep up with his peers. And who will pick him up from school? Me? You? Or maybe you'll have him walk by himself?"

Her husband gives a soft sigh, as if _she_ is the one who is being unreasonable. "A year is hardly an age difference. He is intelligent enough to manage, I should think."

"A year can change everything. His mind won't be mature enough to deal with the changes. He's _five_."

"Legally, he's almost six."

"This is hardly helping his education."

"Maturing earlier will help him later on in life."

A flash of indignation and anger infiltrates her mind, and then she is tirading at him, hands on her hips and back straightened to full height. "Even _you_ finished your high school education with peers your age, didn't you? I would have thought that you would support my decision, not push for sending him to school early. Just because _you_ never got a chance for a normal childhood, doesn't mean you should prevent your _son_ to one as well—"

_(the ghoul has been dealt with, i trust?_

_i'm proud of you, arima)_

"That is _enough_ , Rank Two Mado Akira." His tone is enough to shock her to silence, ice and steel and fury at the same time. Arima stands up, gazing down at her coldly, and it is then Akira realizes that _this man is dangerous_. "I will not be having this conversation with you."

What little reason is left in her mind is enough to let go of the subject, although the hidden veins of rage have not yet dissipated. "Very well. I will pick up Ken, then."

She turns, exiting their apartment—a sleek metal structure that conveniently overlooks a child-friendly neighborhood park as well as the CCG headquarters—stopping only grab her briefcase. Akira slams the front door closed in a somewhat professional way, the sound of high-heels against wood echoing into the distance before there is silence.

Arima stares at his watch mutely; it is still early noon, a few hours before their son is dismissed from the daycare. In the silence, he throws the school entry papers into the dust bin.

/

In the late afternoon, when Ken eagerly talks about making friends with yellow-haired boys named Hideyoshi and how he was going to marry someone called Rize-chan and the latest accomplishment of reading his second book with kanji in it, Akira does not mention their argument. Nor does she bring up the missing papers.

And tomorrow, everything returns to normalcy, and perhaps that is the greatest compromise of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the Internet, tirading is a real word. Take that, Autocorrect!


	6. 6 — ghouls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sure Abe-chan is safe," Ken says, rubbing his chin with his left hand. The words taste bad in his mouth, like medicine, but he ignores the flavor and tries to smile. Above him, the first drops of rain splash onto the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth to be told, this story has 9 chapters already posted on Fanfiction, but I'm too lazy to post them all (plus, I lost two or three of them due to unforeseen happenings). So if you think this story is reasonably heading towards a good direction, feel free to check it out.

Ken likes elementary school a lot, even though sometimes the bigger kids are mean and call his friends _stupid_ and _little_ and he's not allowed to tell anyone his secret name and his sensei doesn't smile very much and isn't as pretty as Rize-chan. His classmates are nice, and don't tease him for his weird hair, and Hide-chan still sits with him during lunch even though they aren't in daycare anymore or even in the same class, and, best of all, he gets to walk home by _himself_ without having to hold Okaa-san's hand like a baby.

"That's not fair," whines Aki-kun, who's almost as big as the fourth-years even though he's younger than Ken, when he hears about it. "My onee-chan always picks me up with her _boyfriend_ —" he makes a face, like just thinking about it is yucky, "—and then they kiss and say stupid, _girly_ things like 'I love you' and forget about me until we get home."

Hide-chan laughs, scratching an itch on his nose. They're in their secret hiding spot next to the gym, eating lunch beside the sakura trees, and soggy petals have been cleared away to form makeshift seats despite the cloudy weather promising more rain. "Haise-chan lives really close to here, though, doesn't he?"

Ken frowns at that, because Okaa-san has made him swear _never_ to tell anybody where he lives, not even Hide-chan, who's really nice and has been friends with him since _forever_. He decides to just nod, because he doesn't like to lie or break his promises, and eventually his friends lose interest and the conversation shifts to cooler things than being grown up.

"My Otou-san says monsters called ghouls eat children who don't listen to their senseis," Saki-kun whispers, his glasses slipping off his nose as he speaks. "Haise-kun, remember Abe-chan from our daycare? He didn't listen to Ai-sensei's words, so the ghouls took him and ate him up in one big bite."

"Okaa-san said he moved away," Ken says resolutely, even though what Okaa-san really had said was that Abe-chan ran away and never came back. He remembers Abe-chan, with his tiny face and small voice and quiet personality. Who the bullies liked to tease because he didn't run away as fast as everyone else. Who looked like a girl, with his long black hair and big brown eyes. Who needed Rize-chan to help him stop crying, even though he was already five years old.

Ken hadn't liked Abe-chan very much before he disappeared.

Hide-chan opens one eye, yawning loudly and stretching. "If ghouls really existed, I would have been eaten by one a long time ago. Ai-sensei once got so mad at me she called my Okaa-san at work."

"Me too," nods Aki-kun. "At my daycare, I got in a big fight with my sensei because she wanted me tp play with a _girl_. Saki-chan's Otou-san is just trying to scare him. Grown-ups always think they can trick people just because they're big."

"Yeah," says Saki-chan, but he doesn't look very convinced.

Ken thinks of papers in his Okaa-san's file office, big stacks of pictures with different people on them, and ugly red marks stamped over the top of each one. He had seen someone who had looked like Abe-chan before in one of the papers, and thought it to be very funny, although he had forgotten about it soon after.

"I'm sure Abe-chan is safe," Ken says, rubbing his chin with his left hand. The words taste bad in his mouth, like medicine, but he ignores the flavor and tries to smile. Above him, the first drops of rain splash onto the ground.


	7. 7 — awakening

The ghoul is clearly a desperate one to attack Akira so brazenly, especially with the large CCG logo emblazoned on her briefcase. The blood-red ukaku misses her head by a mere inch, crashing onto the alleyway wall behind her.

"Okaa-san," Ken says, hiding behind her skirt and watching the ghoul regain itself with a sense of detached curiosity. "What is that?"

"A ghoul, sweetie," Akira says, and lets go of his hand to open her suitcase. "I want you to just stand here for a second—don't move, okay? Okaa-san's going to do some adult stuff."

Ken nods, placing his hands behind his back obediently. "Mmkay."

Amatsu fits into her hand comfortably, and with a lazy flick of her wrist the ghoul is impaled in the chest. It sputters some nonsensical words before twitching convulsively, its body attempting desperately to regenerate the wound.

"Why are you hurting the Oji-san, Okaa-san?" Ken asks, looking up at her with confused grey eyes. "Sensei says that hurting people is bad."

"But that's not a human, Ken," Akira admonishes, surveying the damage. The ghoul posed no threat for the time being. "That's a big monster that likes to eat little children. It only looks like a harmless Oji-san to trick people into thinking that it won't eat them. Do you see the big red wings on it's back? Normal humans don't have them."

"Does that mean it really was a ghoul who ate Abe-kun from the daycare?" Ken says.

Akira snaps her head to face her son at the familiar name. "Who told you that?"

"Saki-kun at school. His Otou-san told him."

"...yes," she answers, bending down on her knees and cradling his chin delicately. "Abe-kun tried to run away from home after a fight with his mother, and was tricked by a ghoul and then eaten."

"Will you kill the ghoul?" Ken asks, changing the subject abruptly. "Sensei says that monsters are supposed to be killed."

Akira hesitates. Her son is five and still innocent, but the breakneck pace of the world will not wait for him. "I won't," she says finally. "But you will."

Ken opens his mouth slightly, but decides against speaking at the last minute. He has not yet to grasp the full meaning of 'death' or 'kill', but what little he knows is enough—once something dies, it never comes back.

Akira gently fits Amatsu into Ken's small fingers. "Do you see where the ghoul's face is? I want you to hit the sharp side of this against its forehead."

"I don't want to, Okaa-san," Ken begs, sniffing slightly. "I don't want to see monster brains."

"It'll be okay," Akira coaxes. "I'll be right here to grab you away when the monster brains come out. You'll be okay."

Ken walks apprehensively towards the collapsed body of the ghoul, preparing to thrust. Before he can move his arms into position, the ghoul's eyes snap open maniacally and lock immediately on Ken's small form.

"You look... delicious—"

The quinque meets its target position.

True to her word, Akira picks Ken away before the bits of brain matter and blood can splatter onto his small form. Ken is sobbing the whole time afterwards, his warm tears soaking the fabric on her jacket.

"Shhh..." Akira whispers, rubbing his back. "You're a hero. That ghoul won't ever hurt another innocent person ever again."

"Okaa-san," Ken wails, hiccuping, "it wanted to eat me. It said I looked delicious."

"I'll protect you forever," Akira promises, retrieving Amatsu and dialing the number for CCG headquarters to report the dead ghoul. "I promise."


	8. 8 — christmas special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First posted on FFN December 2015.
> 
> It's been a long time since I started this story, and I'm so glad for all the support that people have given me on all the platforms that this has been shared on. Thank you so much!

Perhaps, in retrospect, attending the CCG Christmas party with a small child in tow while her husband was out on a mission was not the best idea.

Akira attempts a polite smile, resolutely ignoring her son's insistent fascination with her hair; he is starting to become too big to carry, but has yet to master walking without assistance. Around her, a small crowd has materialized, all staring with fascination at Ken, although most seem intimidated with the idea that the innocent-looking child in her arms is the son of CCG's reaper.

"He looks just like you, Mado-san," First Class Ihei says, smiling, twirling around the end of her empty faux-cocktail glass. "I'm sure he'll turn out to be quite the ghoul investigator when he grows up."

"Thank you, Ihei-san," Akira answers, trying not to sound as awkward as she feels.

"I've always wanted a child myself, when I was younger," Ihei continues cheerfully, oblivious, or perhaps purposefully ignorant, to her discomfort, "but I thought it would be detrimental to my career if I did. Although I do have to say, you seem to have managed just fine. I'm rather envious."

"You're twenty-one," Akira says dryly, although the implied meaning is obviously lost on the other woman. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities further on in your life."

Ihei shrugs, giving another brilliant smile, before turning her attention to something more interesting than the son of Arima Kishou. Akira snorts to herself, smoothing a crease in her skirt, and wonders briefly if anybody would mind if she drank a few shots in front of Ken.

Ken takes that moment to tug particularly hard on a loose strand of her hair. Akira winces, carefully prying away her son's stubborn fingers, before readjusting his position in her arms so that he faces outwards from her hold.

"You seem to have your hands full," Hirako muses from behind her, causing her to start in surprise. Ken flails slightly in her arms, babbling something under his breath, but otherwise does not seem to be startled too much. "Would you mind if I were to hold him?"

"Not at all," Akira says, gently lifting Ken into Hirako's waiting arms. "He's heavier than he looks, so be careful."

Hirako laughs. It relieves him of most of the age lines on his face, and once again Akira is reminded that her fellow co-workers are still young and in their prime, despite their exterior appearances. "I've handled so many things with Arima, I don't think I can be surprised anymore." He bounces Ken slightly with his arm, chuckling when her son peers curiously at his face. "Ken-kun, are you looking forward to Hoteiosho-san visiting you?"

Ken sticks out his lower lip. "No big Ossan."

"No?"

"No big Ossan. Too big." Ken spreads his arms apart as if to emphasize his point. "Too big so eat people."

Akira is too surprised to laugh, although Hirako seems to have no such reservations. "You'll be a good ghoul investigator one day," the older man chuckles, lifting Ken by the underarms. "You're going to surpass both your parents, aren't you?"

Ken stares at him in incomprehension, but nods hesitantly.

Akira watches her son and wonders.


	9. 9 — disappointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki is graduating elementary school, which is basically first to sixth grade in the US. Japanese school years end in around March and start again in April. Again, legally, as Haise Sasaki, he is almost twelve (next month), although legitimately, as Ken Kaneki, he has just turned eleven (three months ago).

"—I'm afraid I don't understand," Akira says into her phone, Ken sitting sullenly in the passenger seat beside her. "I thought he was given the day off just for—"

"Orders are orders," the Bureau Investigator answers unapologetically, the sound of paper rustling in the background. "Mado-san, you should know most of all how important your husband is to the CCG." A pause, and then a noticeable clicking sound, and the call is over.

Akira heaves a sigh in irritation, before turning to her son's vaguely hopeful expression. "Your otou-san won't be able to make it to the ceremony," she says, watching his face fall into resigned acceptance. "But I'm sure he'll be very proud of you when he comes back."

Ken mumbles something under his breath, staring outside the car window. It's a cloudy day, dark grey thunderclouds hinting at heavy rainfall later on, the streets around them as bleak and colorless as the sky.

"Are you excited?" Akira tries again, stopping at an intersection. A wave of cars pass by slowly, followed by a community bus. "You're going to be a junior high student soon."

He shrugs quietly, still not looking at her.

The traffic signal flashes to green, and she shifts her weight back onto the gas pedal. "Don't be mad at your otou-san, Ken. It's not his fault he can't make it. I'm sure he wants to come and see you very much, but the mission comes first."

"The mission always comes first," Ken says, his inflection monotonous. "And it's not like he cares about some graduation ceremony or if I'm vice-president of the student council or not. All he cares about is killing ghouls."

"Ken, please," Akira says, and her grip on the steering wheel is tighter than needed to be. "He loves you, even if he may not show it. It's just that he's a very busy man, and has a hard time expressing himself."

"He's never home," Ken says, curling into the seat. "I barely see him even once a week. It's always missions, missions, missions. Not family."

She sighs again, turning onto another street. "My okaa-san died when I was very young, sweetie, and your ojii-san was always busy with work as well. He never had time for parent-teacher conferences, chaperoning field trips, helping me with my homework. When I was your age I was bitter just like you. But, you know, the bright side about not having your father entirely to yourself? It helps you appreciate what little you do have."

Ken sniffs slightly, and again Akira is reminded of how young he still is. "Otou-san doesn't deserve you."

"Maybe," Akira says. "But even if he didn't, you still have to be there for him. It's not easy being a ghoul investigator, you know?"

"I don't want to be a ghoul investigator when I grow up," Ken confesses, leaning on his armrest. "I want to become a writer instead. And then I'll become famous and maybe then Otou-san will acknowledge me."

"Good luck," Akira says ambiguously, ruffling his hair. "You'll need it."


	10. 10 — apathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think the relationship between Arima and Kaneki in this AU is extremely complicated. There's this impression on me that Arima views Kaneki more of a mistake and an unnecessary burden than a child that he fathered and loves. However, Arima does love his son, despite his difficulties in showing his feelings.
> 
> So Kaneki feels isolated from his father and identifies more with his mother, who is more readily accessible to him and gives him a noticeably larger amount of affection. This causes him to feel some sort of resentment towards his father for 'abandoning' him and Akira, although it's more that his father doesn't know how to deal with a son and treats Akira with professional etiquette. And then there's the issue of everyone projecting Arima on Kaneki. Everybody (which is basically most ghoul investigators because nobody else knows Haise Sasaki is actually Kaneki Ken who is actually Arima Ken/Mado Ken; and also Akira to some extent) expects Kaneki to achieve legendary status with such talented parents, but they don't actually stop and think about what happens if Kaneki doesn't want to be a ghoul investigator.

Arima downs the cup of sake, staring apathetically at the empty glass remaining underneath. The apartment lights flicker in the dim light, casting dark shadows on the floor, although some of the effect is negated from the light spilling out of the open bedroom window.

"Otou-san," his son says quietly; Arima had almost missed him coming out the hall, if not for the light sound of scuffling against wood. "Why isn't Okaa-san home yet from her mission? It's been three days already."

Arima glances at his son's noticeable lack of sleepwear, before sighing lightly and setting the glass onto the counter beside a nearly-empty sake bottle. "The ghoul is harder to find than they expected," he says simply, and turns to return to his office.

"But isn't it your job then, if a ghoul is hard to subdue?" Ken says, and Arima is almost startled by the accusatory note in his voice. "That's why they call you the Shinigami of the CCG, right? Because no ghoul has escaped your hands? Isn't it your job to bring Okaa-san back home?"

Arima stops, and without warning, turns and makes a standard roundhouse kick that his son dodges with ease. One attack turns into another until finally Arima catches his son off-guard with a twist of the elbow, sending the boy falling onto the ground.

"You left an opening when you turned away from me to gain balance," Arima notes, releasing the arm in his grasp. "Work on improving your leg strength." Ken flushes, noticeably breathing harder than usual, and stands up shakily.

"Why?" he asks, staring intently at Arima. "Why do you act like you don't care about Okaa-san? Like she's nothing to you?"

"A person cannot achieve victory relying on the help of others," Arima says. "If you want to bring your mother home, then bring her home yourself." And then, almost as a second thought, he adds, "Take a shower."

Ken traipses back into the hallway, leaving Arima alone again in the kitchen once again. Giving a fleeting glance at the clock above the dining room table, he pours the remainder of the sake bottle into his glass.


	11. 11 — choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the pregnancy-arc (does this story even have a plot?)

The thing about being nineteen and pregnant is that she's still practically a child herself, and therefore has no bearings in the faraway fantasy realm of the adult reality. She may be exceptionally mature for her age, uncannily intelligent, but there are simply some things that must be learned through experience rather than books, and she has yet to acquire them.

Surprisingly, Arima brings up the issue first. "Who will care for the child when you are at work?" he asks one night in their new shared apartment condo—overlooking both the CCG headquarters and a child-friendly neighborhood park—from his position on the couch, straining his neck to look over the screen of his sleek silver laptop. She had moved in with him a week after her first term ended, if only to spare her father the stress of living with his pregnant teenage daughter. "It would be a waste of talent if you were to retire from the Investigator force for a reason so trifle."

Akira mourns her physique, cradling her swollen midriff as she cleans up the clutter left from dinner. "I don't know," she says honestly, bending over precariously to deposit a set of dishes into the sink. "I'd always thought a day care, perhaps, or a live-in babysitter...?" She sighs, gazing downwards. "I suppose I would just bring him to work with me. Get him acquainted with his future workplace."

"The CCG is no place for any child, let alone ours," Arima says severely, and she is reminded of the whispers that follow him wherever he goes, phantom taunts of awe and envy, indifference and fear. "And... it would be best not to leave the child with someone we cannot trust. Staying home, although a great loss, would be the best path for him."

Arima is older than his twenty-seven years, and perhaps something in her post-adolescent brain sees that and resents it. "They—the CCG—won't accept you keeping him away from such a path," Akira says, scrubbing at a plate with more force needed than necessary. "It's inevitable that the son of Arima will become an investigator someday, whether he's fifteen or twenty-five. The question now is, will he be ready by then?"

Arima rests his forehead over the edge of his laptop in silent acknowledgement, and remains silent.

Akira thinks of a little boy with Arima's face and her own blonde hair, covered in blood and gore, tears streaking down his cheeks in waves of silent sobs. _It's inevitable_ , she thinks, and tries to convince herself.

She thinks of the little boy a little bit older now, a blood-stained sword in his hands, dark circles surrounding around his eyes and his skin waxy and pale.

She thinks of the little boy as an adult, shining medals decorating the lapel of his suit, his irises devoid of emotion and feeling as he greets her good morning in a polite monotone.

 _It's inevitable_ , she thinks to herself again, and tells herself that she is doing the right thing.


	12. 12 — happy (choices pt.2)

When Akira finally decides that Ken's old enough to kill, he's seven years old with eyes too big for his face and wearing a hand-me-down shirt dating all the way from Akira's youth.

Ken cries the first night. The first week. By the time the second week arrives, his eyes are so puffy his teacher sends Akira a note enquiring about potential allergies _and kami-sama, I'm so awfully worried, he won't stop crying in class and it's disrupting the other students_. Finally, after a good three weeks, he stops, but that innocence in his eyes is never quite the same afterwards.

They fall into a rhythm, somehow. In the few moments he can, Arima teaches Ken how to fight, how to defend himself, how to _survive_. Akira would be impressed by how much their son has improved under his tutelage, if not for the fact that the 'training' has already resulted in twenty-two encounters with the hospital, and one child abuse allegation. Luckily, Arima is famous not just in the CCG, and the awed policeman seems more concerned with an autograph than questioning Ken.

Akira starts bringing Ken on missions, earning her some disapproving glances from Hirako and Shinohara, but a smug sanction from Tsuneyoshi Washuu. Ken's personality begins returning to normalcy after his first ten or so kills, and soon he stops hesitating whatsoever when Akira orders him to dispatch of a ghoul. The emptiness in his eyes is startlingly reminiscent of his father's.

Akira wonders if what she's doing is a good idea. And then she remembers that she had never thought it to be a good idea in the first place.

* * *

"How are you doing with your part-time job now, sweetie?" Akira inquires once, smoothing out her skirt as she traipses past a floor of blood. Behind her, Ken seems indifferent, except for a few looks of concern at his dirtied shoes. "Is everything okay with the video rentals?"

"Good," Ken says. He is tall for a Japanese teenager at fifteen, although it is to be expected with a father like Arima. His Rank III investigator uniform fits loosely on his lanky frame, more suited for broader, older owners than a child. "We got a new regular in the video game section. Usui-san was pleased."

"Was she?" Akira asks, not bothering to feign interest. A few bureau officers send them vague looks as they pass by, whispers immediately breaking out when they think that she is out of hearing range. _Isn't that Special Class Arima's wife and s—_

Hirako has a conflicted expression as they pass him by. He had been one of the more vocal opponents of bringing Ken to missions and instating him as an Investigator, although Washuu's support has rendered him unable to express most of his thoughts. He gives a nod in greeting, but his hands are in tightly clenched fists, and Akira knows that he sees Arima instead of Ken when he looks at their son.

Ken wipes his foot against the ground, forming macabre patterns of crimson red. "Mmm. Her name's Irimi Kaya. She works in the coffee shop across the street—I think it was called Anteiku, or something like that. She's very nice."

"That's good," Akira says absently.

"She likes gory video games," Ken says, if only to add something in the conversation. "Most of the games she rented were those where ghouls were hunting for humans. She didn't look the type of person who would play them, though. I heard Inoue-san and Rin-san talking about it in the break room."

"Oh," Akira says disinterestedly, because what other people do are none of her business. "As long as you're happy."

"Happy..." Ken starts, and trails off. He has an indiscernible expression on his face. "Yes, I guess so, Okaa-san."

He scratches his chin with his left hand.


	13. 13 — reflections

_The Three Little Children and the Big Bad Ghoul_.

Ken pauses, looking at the dust-covered book he had just excavated from the mess that is the storage closet. Time has not been kind to it; the outer cover is ripped in some parts, water damage wrinkling the paper, and some of the text has faded with age. He doesn't quite remember this particular picture book either, although there are faint memories in the back of his mind of his mother reading to him from other ones in his earlier years.

Well. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, would it?

He opens the cover slightly; immediately, a cloud of previously undisturbed dust erupts, irritating his eyes. Wiping away the instinctive tears, he peers at the inside cover, slightly surprised when he when he sees cramped blue handwriting written along the margins.

 _Arima-san:_  
Congratulations on Mado-san's successful pregnancy! Best wishes for your incoming child. I hope that he will be just as successful in ghoul investigation as both of his parents.  
Best Wishes,  
Mutsumi Chino

It's a familiar name, and instantly Ken remembers the middle-aged man that sometimes offered him lollipops when he visited the CCG headquarters in his younger years. It's a strange feeling, knowing that that man had congratulated his parents on his pregnancy. Not one that he hadn't expected, given the territory, but... still.

He flips the page again to the table of contents, which is visibly stained with dubious contents of various colors. There is a faint vestige of a tiny blue handprint, so fragile-looking in comparison with his own large fingers, and he tries to imagine the food-smeared chubby hands of his younger self clutching at the book while his mother fusses at him in the background. There is a photograph of his mother in her younger days that hangs over the fireplace. She looks like a completely different person without the wrinkles and dark circles under her eyes she has now.

He skips through the next few pages of text, until he reaches the first page of the story. There is a detailed illustration of a vicious-looking ghoul holding a large cleaver, blood running down its mouth as it growls threateningly at a group of terrified-looking children. Someone has crudely scribbled over its chin with red crayon, unsteady lines of wax beginning to chip off. What is visible of the black text below it reads:

_On e upo a t   me, the  e wa  a big, bad gho  l that li  ed to ea  nau hty little ch  dren very, ve   much. He   uld snat  h them aw  y from their ro  ms at ni   t whe  ev   they misbe    ed and cook  d them ins     of his big    tal pot, to   ake his favorite hu  an soup._

Ken snorts, thinking back to a time when he and his schoolmates had been terrified that they would be snatched away by ghouls if they misbehaved even the slightest. His grandfather loved telling those kinds of stories, and he had always dreaded the times when his mother insisted that they visit her father back in southern Tokyo and he couldn't go to sleep without checking his closet for any man-eating monsters. His mother had thought his paranoia to be funny.

But then again, there _had_ been a boy in their grade that had honestly met a grisly fate for his disobedience, hadn't there? What was his name, again? Aki? Abu?

Well, it wasn't like he cared that much about something that had happened a good decade or so ago. And he'd been killing ghouls for almost as long as he could remember, so they'd stopped scaring him long before he'd even graduated elementary school.

He flips the page again, and then again. Most of the ink has faded so much that the book is practically unreadable, although he catches a few snippets here and there that seem much too morbid for a children's story. But then again, in something like his parents' line of duty _everyone_ has a skewed sense of what is appropriate for children. Comes with the job, almost.

... _the ghou  easi y brok  past the str  w  ouse of the fir t chi d a  d at  him..._

_...and the gho  l hit and kic ed the ston  until i  broke  and then gob  l d an  ripp d apa  t the se  on child unt l only a pile of bone  rem  ined..._

_...and the la t chil  was tr  ped insid  his bri  k house and c  ld onl  sl  wly sta ve to death..._

"Who writes these kinds of books for children?" Ken muses to himself again, and wonders how detached from normalcy he has become, with parents like these, reading books like these. Wonders what it would be like, to have a normal family and a normal lifestyle, where the only thing he has to kill are insects and the occasional rat, and there aren't any classified secrets he isn't allowed to share with the people around him including _his own real name_ , where the one person he likes doesn't try to distance herself away from him because she's slightly scared of his mother.

But he's trapped, much like that third child in the story in his lonely brick house, and sometimes it seems like the only option left for him in this world is to slowly waste away.


	14. 14 — the price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taishi Fura doesn't like Arima's parenting style very much.

Fura's always known that Arima's slightly bent in the head, by conventional norms. Well, actually, what he means by that is _dropped on the head as a baby and kicked a few times for good measure and then set on fire_. Yeah, killing a teenage girl without batting an eye, even if she _was_ a ghoul, wasn't something that normal people would be able to do, let alone at the age of sixteen. Arima's an emotionally stunted sociopath in the making, and somehow he's managed to find a woman who actually likes that quality in a man.

Fura wouldn't peg Mado Akira as someone who does the whole office romance thing, let alone with someone like Arima. She seems like a sensible girl, the rare kind of composed, professional investigator that's practically guaranteed to be promoted to First Class Investigator soon. She'd probably be the last person he'd imagine taking maternity break at such a young age (not yet twenty and not even old enough to drink—what was Arima thinking?), and this could potentially ruin her entire career, if she throws away her quinque to become a housewife.

For the sake of posterity, however, he sends the couple a bottle of sake wishing them the best, and swallows down all the doubts he's been spouting about this relationship. This might work out, who knows. Maybe Arima's working on the whole emotionless ice-guy persona.

And then somehow Arima Ken (officially Kaneki Ken, although who's asking?) is born, and ok, somehow he's turned out pretty decent looking, with a shock of dark blue hair and large grey eyes like his father. He has his mother's face too, the soft curves of Akira's cheeks prominent in the lines of his face and the same tiny worry lines creasing between his eyebrows when he babbles. Fura isn't really one for babies, but even he admits that Ken's a cute kid. He'll be devastating when he's older, just wait.

Ken grows up with a relatively normal childhood, if running around a place filled with potentially life-threatening weapons counts as normal. He's a lively kid, someone who chases after spiders and beetles in the dark corners of file cabinets but isn't too much trouble to watch over. He's got all the junior investigators wrapped around his finger, and on his way to charming the rest of the senior investigators. Heaven knows Hirako is obsessed over the kid already.

And then one day Ken comes to CCG headquarters, and something isn't _right_.

He's probably around six or seven, if Fura remembers correctly, although by the way he was acting you'd think he was much older. He has that same shell-shocked expression that all the witnesses do when they see the brutality of ghouls, and immediately Fura thinks to himself, _oh god what have those idiot parents done_. It's bad enough to see the expression of a grown woman realize her husband wanted to cannibalize her alive, it's somehow even worse when there's a seven-year-old looking with around with fear and apprehension towards the people who practically changed his diapers.

"This isn't right," he tells Arima over coffee, and thinks of his own little girl Natsu at home. He looks at the quiet way Ken hangs around in the corner of his office, not talking to anyone, fingers clasped together as if in silent prayer.

Arima looks at him under hooded eyelids, not talking, and it's frustrating at how complex and unreadable his expression is.

Somehow, things get worse. There are little bruises here and there now, bandages that poke under from clothes, a small limp when the boy walks. There's even talk of Arima bringing him on missions, and if that weren't terrifying enough, it's Arima's usual fare of S and SS-ranked ghouls.

"What are you doing?" he asks Akira one day. Hopefully she'll be a little more receptive than her husband to talk with, although, going by the rumors, she's almost as cold-hearted as Arima regarding their son. He still remembers the cheerful little girl First Class Mado had brought to work sometimes almost a decade and a half ago. The comparison is disconcerting.

Akira laughs, almost in his face although she's too polite for that. She's barely twenty-six, one of the youngest Associate Special Classes in history but somehow her eyes are old. "I'm teaching him," she says, "how to survive."

There's a flash of regret, he notices, that flashes through her face when she finishes.

Fura tries to imagine an alternate reality where Ken is seven years old and smiling, chubby-cheeked and alive instead of this sullen, withdrawn boy that stares at him with empty eyes.

"But is it worth it?" Fura responds, and watches her stiffen at his words.

She doesn't respond.


End file.
